This blog is (mostly) a near-verbatim transcription of my writing journal. Margins are the same as the journal. These are exercises, not finished products. Other types of writings will most likely emerge at some point.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Scattered Gutters

Variation on a familiar theme

And the sun stretched forth his orange-yellowhand, and groomed the city streets, andfollowed the country roads, and even scannedthe island retreats for the slender hand he solonged to hold; and finding none of hisdesired worth strolling through the day,He reclined - to reflect on Cabernet, anddetermined to assign his son the task;the son, who with his father’s borrowed lightpatrols the undeserted streets at night;

And through the dank alleyways of beer-glass broken gutters,his pale arm crept softly over our simple heads, andunder concrete bridges and over cardboard beds,in over-populated three-in-the-morning bars, andtheatres filled with song and dance and weeping bards -he filtered through those sound awake and sleepingto find the earthy hand his father now desired insteadof the emaciated sky;but nothing here on earth - and nothing through the seacould be gathered to comparewith her infinitely finite blue supplyof cloud-swept grace and star-borne flare.